


In the garden

by MarauderCracker



Series: Fates and worlds away [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Immortal Kira, Reincarnation, Reincarnation fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Death feels like chains around Kira’s ankles. She drags its weight around Los Angeles, wanders through streets that were once familiar, tries to grasp onto the ghost of the life she once had. But that life is gone, just like the colorful graffiti in their block, just like the café they frequented, just like Scott.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the garden

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the [Hypnotic Board](http://queerhawkeye.tumblr.com/post/133829159404/), for @[clustrefuck](http://clustrefuck.tumblr.com/). Also part of the #[scira reincarnation crying party.](http://queerhawkeye.tumblr.com/tagged/scira%20reincarnation%20crying%20party)

They got their first place together when they were just kids --bright, hopeful, happy twenty-somethings in a cramped, tiny apartment in Los Angeles. For the first time in years, the lingering feeling of death biting at their ankles vanished.

Kira remembers those years more clearly than she remembers what she had for dinner last night. She'd illustrated magazines and children's books, and Scott once had to pout for three hours straight to convince her to draw a tattoo design for him to get on his back. He came home from the clinic with a stray dog one day, and then with a hurt cat the next month, and the two got on amazingly well.

It's been years, an entire life since. They moved to the outskirts of the city, they bought a house, Scott opened a clinic in their new neighborhood. They had a good life, Kira remembers, but it's those first years that she misses the most. It's been five years since she set foot on California, but maybe her old neighborhood can bring some of that light back into her life.

That old building has been demolished, replaced by a shopping mall. The vet clinic changed owners. The small park where they used to spend their Sundays is now home to a fancy hotel. The owners of their favorite Korean delivery died, and their kids sold the family business to a white guy who turned it into an Asian fusion restaurant. There eloteros left the neighborhood as wealthier, snobbier crowds filled the streets and stopped buying their food.

Death feels like chains around Kira’s ankles. She drags its weight around Los Angeles, wanders through streets that were once familiar, tries to grasp onto the ghost of the life she once had. But that life is gone, just like the colorful graffiti in their block, just like the café they frequented, just like Scott. She leaves Los Angeles again, and promises herself that she'll never come back. 

 

Relearning how to be herself is a slow, painful process. She reaches out to the few left --Liam and Hayden, Malia-- and makes peace with the fact that they'll be gone soon, too. 

Hayden has gone blind, so Kira reads her poetry out loud and they walk around New York, arm in arm. She flies to Toronto to meet Liam's children --now in their thirties-- and they watch soccer and lacrosse, even throw some balls when Liam isn't too tired. Malia insists they travel to Mexico together. She tries to enjoy these last few years, and they never blame her for disappearing for half a decade. 

They leave quickly --it's two years between Liam's death and Malia's, Hayden follows them a short six months later. After a while, Kira feels out of tears, but still whole. Even the gaping emptiness that Scott left in her chest stops aching eventually. Death is a tattoo of her friends' names around her right ankle, a scar where there once was a bleeding wound.

 

She gets a place in New York, starts drawing again, makes new friendships. She even falls in love one time --it's short but sweet, and ends with a soft goodbye, no resentments. She gets a cat, puts posters up on her apartment's walls, becomes 'a regular' in a coffee shop nearby. For the first time in years, the relentless sensation of immortality damning her ever step disappears. 

There is colorful graffiti in New York too --she smiles as she thinks of how she'd describe it to Hayden if she was here. She introduces her friend Jayden to the wonder of actual Mexican food, starts playing soccer in her free time, spends her Sundays at the park sometimes. 

During electric storms she goes up to her building's roof and speaks with the lighting, hoping her mom will be listening somewhere in another realm. The sunny Saturday afternoons that almost feel like California heat, she dedicates to Scott --near the sea, she closes her eyes and asks him if he remembers the first time they went surfing, wonders if he's still somewhere and misses her as much as she misses him. 

Kira doesn't visit anyone's grave, but she writes a journal dedicated to her dad and learns to make peace with the memories. It takes her another seven years to gather the courage, but she eventually goes back to California. 

She visits Sasha Deaton, and meets the new Beacon Hills pack, led by a young werewolf called Cora. Braeden and Derek's daughter followed Scott's steps, making the supernatural beacon a safe place for omegas, strays and any creature looking for a home. Kira promises that they can contact her if they ever need help, that she'll come back next year even if they don't. Then, she heads for Los Angeles.

 

The vet clinic that Scott opened is still running, now owned by a young woman who immediately recognizes Kira's scent as not-human. By the time Scott retired, he sold the clinic to a kid named Jesús who'd been bitten a few years back and had come to him for help. Yasmeen tells Kira that she actually started working with Jesús as a teenager, and points Kira to a wall where three pictures are on display. 

In the first photo, Yasmeen is wearing a graduation cap, Jesús smiling proudly next to her. The second shows a younger Jesús --just like Kira remembers him-- hugging Scott, whose face is turned away from the camera. The last one is of Scott, twenty-six and teary-eyed, Alan Deaton on one side and his mother on the other. 

Kira still has the picture taken instantly after that one, when Deaton offered to take the camera off her hands and take a picture of Scott, Melissa and her. In this picture, the newly-opened clinic is behind them, and she knows that the blurry figures in the background are her own parents. She isn't sure if they're blurry because of the camera's focus or because of the tears filling her eyes.

 

The neighborhood where they spent they adulthood looks almost the same. Some houses have been painted or remodeled, the cars have evolved with the years, there are no familiar faces, but the trees are still covered in pink flowers and the sight of the sunny street feels like coming home. 

As she walks up to the house that used to hold her life, Kira feels a sort of closure. She'd expected to get some relief when she sold it, shortly after Scott's death, but it only felt like another loss. Now, half a block away from a house that's been other people's home for decades, there is no resentment or pain. The badly-healed wound of her grief doesn't hurt anymore.

She stops in front of the house, indulges for only a second in her nostalgia. The new owners still keep the flowers, the roses and lilies surrounding the lawn, and their perfume brings a smile to Kira's lips. She steps on the green grass, takes the sight in without looking for the details missing. If the walls are a different color and new curtains hang over the windows, Kira tries not to notice. She turns around to look at the street instead. A young man is walking down the sidewalk, looking at the house. Maybe he's the new owner, Kira thinks.  

She's about to look away when something about him catches her attention. The color of his skin, the curve of his nose, something about the way he walks strikes Kira as familiar. Just like the street and the trees and the California sun, he seems to fit Kira's picture of home. Ten steps away from Kira, he looks away from the house and at her instead, and a smile lights up his features. 

"Here you are," he breathes, and his eyes are warm brown, sweet. He steps forward, dirty sneakers on the green grass, bright and hopeful and happy as he comes closer. "Kira."

Something like a spark lights up in her chest, a stir as if the dormant fire inside her had been awakened. It's ridiculous, she thinks. "How do you know my name?"

"I remembered it," he tells her, and his amused smile digs up a memory that Kira's been holding onto for almost a century. His name leaves her lips without her even needing to think it. 

In the garden of what was their home in another life, they hug for the first time in decades, for the second of what Kira can only hope will be a millenia of new beginnings. "I missed you so much, Scott," she whispers against his neck. There is a new birthmark on his collarbone and the slope of his jaw is slightly different, but his arms around her waist still feel the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog it on tumblr, [here](http://queerhawkeye.tumblr.com/tagged/andrea's%20fics)!


End file.
